The Art of Murder

by Rebecca Muddiman

  ‘Three stabbings, one with post mortem mutilation. But then one strangulation with mutilation,’ he said. ‘One older white male, one black female, one young white male, one black male.’

  ‘Lauder was openly gay,’ Azrah added. ‘Olly’s close friends claim he was gay but struggling with it, mainly because his father refused to accept it.’

  ‘What about Lawrence?’ Lynch asked.

  ‘Not according to his ex-wife,’ Nick said.

  ‘Maybe she doesn’t know,’ Azrah said.

  ‘Maybe. But we’ve spoken to colleagues, friends, no one had any inkling he could be gay,’ Nick said.

  ‘Doesn’t mean he wasn’t,’ Azrah said.

  ‘Plus there’s Irene, a straight woman, so…’ Dan said.

  Lynch sighed again. ‘Lauder was middle class, as was Olly. Christopher, upper middle. Irene, working class.’

  ‘There’s no connection,’ Nick said. ‘They never met each other, had no shared interests. There’s no suggestion any of the other victims shared Lauder’s political beliefs, but nor did they strongly oppose them. No one else used Irene’s center. None of them were customers of Olly’s father, and have no links to the army. And none were patients of Christopher Lawrence. There’s nothing.’

  ‘But this guy is picking them for a reason,’ Lynch said. ‘There must be something. Some common ground.’ He shook his head and turned back to the team.

  ‘Location?’ Dan said. ‘All were lower Manhattan.’

  Lynch turned back to the board. ‘Chelsea, Lower East Side, East Village, and now Tribeca. Could be something. Could be nothing. Maybe our guy is just too lazy to go further afield.’

  ‘Or it could mean he lives locally,’ Nick said.

  Lynch sighed. It wasn’t much to go on. ‘What did the ex-wife say?’ he asked Nick.

  ‘Not much. She went over because he hadn’t picked up the kids, which was unusual. She was angry, but mainly because she had a date.’ Nick saw Lynch’s eyes light up but he burst his bubble by shaking his head. ‘We’ve checked him out. Alibis for every murder.’

  ‘And no one saw Mr. Lawrence enter the building with anyone? Or anyone arrive at all Saturday night?’ Lynch asked.

  ‘Neighbor saw him come home around seven,’ Azrah said. ‘He was alone. Nodded, didn’t speak. But after that, no one saw anyone. There’s no CCTV in the building. We picked him up on CCTV two blocks over a few minutes before the neighbor saw him come home. But there are hundreds of people on the street after that, any one of them could be our guy.’

  ‘All right,’ Lynch said. ‘Keep looking at that, try to locate any other cameras in the area that could give us something. The rest of you know what you’re doing.’ He stood up, dismissing them, but Nick’s voice stopped them from leaving.

  ‘There was something else the ex mentioned. Obviously she saw the crime scene. She recognized it as a Rembrandt.’

  ‘But she’s keeping that to herself, I hope,’ Lynch said.

  ‘I made sure she understands. But, the thing is… We all know there’s chatter. The papers are being far from subtle. We already know Irene Okafor’s colleague has talked to the press. They don’t know specifics, but presumably only because the guy didn’t know what he was looking at. But they know there’s something unusual about these cases–’

  ‘And where would they get that idea from?’ Azrah said, and Nick glared at her, although it may have been true that he’d used the word unusual on more than one occasion.

  ‘Plus, Peter Aronsen’s been sniffing around,’ Nick went on. ‘I heard he’s spoken to Olly’s neighbor. He knows there was a backdrop. No doubt he’ll keep trying to talk to the other witnesses. I don’t think we can keep this quiet much longer, nor do I think we should.’

  ‘And what would you suggest?’ Lynch asked. ‘Perhaps you’d like to do a press conference? Or, wait, why not go the whole hog and get yourself a talk show?’

  Nick heard Dan giggling. He refused to look at Azrah, knowing she’d be enjoying his dressing down. Maybe he should’ve waited and spoken to Lynch in private.

  ‘I caught your latest appearance,’ Lynch said.

  ‘What was I supposed to do?’

  ‘Ignore them.’

  ‘And let people like Aronsen talk for us?’

  ‘Peter Aronsen is a second-rate hack who makes up stories and markets them as the truth. If you think you’re in competition with him, I’d suggest a change of career.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘But nothing. We keep the details to ourselves, about the art shit, about them being connected, all of it.’

  ‘Maybe keeping it to ourselves isn’t helping.’

  ‘Helping who? Look at this shit!’ Lynch swept his hand across the noticeboard. ‘This guy is begging for attention. He wants an audience. But he’s not going to get it. The more we ignore him, the more desperate he’ll get and he’ll make a mistake.’

  ‘And until then?’ Nick marched towards the board, pointing to the crime scene photos. ‘In three of these murders he brought a backdrop with him. Something like that can’t be easy to smuggle in. People notice things like that. If we release that detail, people will be looking for it. Maybe it’ll help us find him. Maybe even save someone’s life.’

  Nick turned to the team, expecting them to be in agreement but they looked back blankly. ‘It doesn’t have to be me that makes the statement,’ he said, although it stuck in his craw to do so.

  ‘We keep it quiet,’ Lynch said, raising a hand to stop Nick from speaking again. ‘I’ll speak to the commissioner. Until then, you say nothing. Understood?’

  Nick nodded and walked out, ignoring the looks on Dan and Azrah’s faces. As he approached his desk, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, seeing DAD on the screen. ‘Hey. What’s up?’

  ‘It’s your dad,’ his dad said, still not understanding the concept of caller ID. ‘Me and your mother are in the city. We wanted to surprise you and Karen. Thought we’d take you out somewhere nice for her birthday.’

  ‘Wait, what?’

  His dad laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot. Husband 101, son. Don’t forget the wife’s birthday.’

  Nick listened to his dad relay the joke to his mother who’d be standing beside him, waiting for her turn to speak. He suddenly felt his heart pounding in his chest. Truth was, he had forgotten it was Karen’s birthday, not that he thought she’d mind. Things were way beyond either of them getting mad for forgetting a birthday. That wasn’t why he was panicking.

  Nick knew he’d have to tell them eventually, that once all this crap with the apartment was sorted out, they’d go their separate ways and that would be it. There’d be little chance of Karen swinging by to play house after that. But Nick couldn’t bring himself to tell them, not yet. His parents didn’t believe in divorce. It was the worst sin he could commit in their eyes. Sometimes he thought that he could be in prison for murdering half a dozen people, but as long as he was still married, then it wouldn’t matter. But a son, a respected detective, a man who helped hundreds of people, saved lives even, what if that man were divorced? Nick imagined there’d be no more nice dinners out after that. He’d be a disgrace.

  ‘You still there?’ his dad asked.

  ‘Yeah. Look, the thing is, I’m working–’

  ‘Oh, come on, on your wife’s birthday?’

  ‘I know. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important but there’s this case and–’

  ‘Oh, that’s right, we saw you on the news. It was… hang on…’

  Nick listened as his mother spoke in the background. He could see Dan and Azrah glancing over and turned his back on them.

  ‘Hang on, son. I’m putting your mother on,’ his dad said before a lot of shuffling, and then his mother’s voice rang loudly in his ear.

  ‘Nick! I saw you on the news. You looked tired. Have you been eating right? I know Karen’s busy too but she should at least feed you. Tell your boss you need to come home. Tell him it’s your wife’s birthd
ay. Tell him your mother is in town and wants to see you. Tell him–’

  ‘Mom! It doesn’t work like that.’

  ‘Nonsense. Let me talk to him,’ she said and Nick resisted the urge to hang up.

  ‘Listen, Mom, I’d really like to see you but things are too crazy here tonight. I’m sorry. Maybe I could come up and visit in a few weeks.’

  Silence. More shuffling. She was gone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ Nick said.

  ‘No, no, we understand. But if you’re stuck there, why don’t we go on over and see Karen, and maybe the three of us could go out. And you can always catch up later. How’s that sound?’

  Nick closed his eyes. It sounded terrible. The worst idea in the world. ‘Sounds great, Dad. Let me call Karen and let her know you’re coming.’

  ‘Excellent. We’ll see you later then.’

  Nick hung up. ‘Fuck!’ he shouted and dialed Karen. Engaged. Fuck! He turned to find Dan lurking behind him.

  ‘Why in God’s name don’t you just tell them?’ Dan asked.

  ‘You don’t get it.’

  ‘No. I don’t.’

  Nick tried Karen again but there was still no answer.

  ‘You really think Karen’s going to play along? Why would she?’

  ‘She still likes them. It’s just me she hates.’

  ‘Can’t imagine why.’

  Nick tried again, relieved it rang this time. Although that was no guarantee she’d answer him. It rang three, four times before she finally picked up.

  ‘Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to say happy birthday,’ he said and ignored Dan’s mocking face, although he couldn’t imagine Karen’s expression being any less cynical. ‘I thought I’d give you a heads-up. My parents are coming over. They want to take you out for dinner. I tried to stop them but you know what they’re like.’ He waited but she said nothing. ‘Are you still there?’

  Nick walked into the corridor to finish the conversation, aware that a little begging would be required. Truth was, he would rather be anywhere than having dinner with the three of them and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d used work as an excuse to get out of such a thing. Work had always been the perfect excuse. Crime never sleeps and all that.

  But many of those nights, or days, he told Karen he was working, he was actually with another woman. There’d been more than one affair, a lot more than one, but it only took one to destroy everything. Maybe he should’ve known better than to sleep with one of Karen’s friends. But he couldn’t help himself and nor could Zoe. But where he was capable of keeping things quiet, of compartmentalizing his life, Zoe couldn’t, and even though she claimed she never meant to reveal what was going on, she’d ended up doing just that. Maybe, like a criminal who wanted to get caught, she left clues around for Karen to find. How else could she explain sending emails meant for him to Karen, or “accidentally” leaving her underwear in his car?

  After Zoe, he decided affairs were too much trouble. It didn’t matter to his marriage, that was done. But he realized it was so much easier to just pay for it. That way there were no strings, no complications. Of course, as a police officer, he could’ve got it for free. He wouldn’t be the first cop to use his position for free sex, but Nick wasn’t an asshole. These women were working for a living. Besides, the establishment he frequented most often was run by a redhead called Alison, who Nick was desperate to fuck.

  As the owner of the club, Alison, technically wasn’t for sale. But Nick was working on her. Sometimes he dropped by with no intention of spending time with one of Alison’s girls. Instead he’d sit at the bar and talk to her, trying to figure her out. She was married to a guy she didn’t appear to love. A former dancer, with the body to prove it, she had retired after suing the company she was a part of, and bought the club with the proceeds. To the outside world it was a private club for women. Somewhere they could go and relax without being bothered by sleazy men, unless those men had been invited by a member. Except it was the opposite. A private club where women worked, being bothered exclusively by sleazy men and the occasional sleazy woman. Nick still didn’t understand why a woman like Alison would run such a place but she was good at it. And everyone has their talents.

  Nick hung up, having persuaded Karen to play the game, one of his talents, and went back to his desk to look at the results that had come back from the Christopher Lawrence scene. As with two of the other scenes, they’d managed to retrieve DNA. And they had a match. They knew conclusively that whoever had killed the others had killed Christopher Lawrence. But Nick didn’t feel the thrill that would usually come with such a discovery. They already knew this was the same guy. How many crazies could there be stalking New York, turning people’s deaths into art installations? Besides, having the DNA evidence was useless without anyone to match it to. They had plenty of evidence and it still meant nothing.

  Nick sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the yellowing ceiling tiles. There really wasn’t much he could do but, like the rest of them, going home seemed like admitting defeat. So they hung on, hoping for a miracle. But the longer Nick sat there, the more the doubt crept in. Could he really trust that Karen would do as he asked? He’d asked nicely, but still. Was he playing with fire by letting her out alone with his parents?

  He stood up, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. If there was nothing he could do there, then maybe he should go home and do a little damage control.

  6

  Karen

  Karen fed Paulo, watching him do his little dance as he got impatient. She’d been late feeding him as Jamie had called, still trying to persuade her to go out with him to celebrate her birthday. But she didn’t much feel like going out. What was there to celebrate? A failed marriage? A failing business? The possibility she’d have nowhere to live soon? She was thirty-nine and her life was a disaster.

  All day at work he’d been trying to persuade her to live a little and maybe he was right, maybe she should go out and get drunk. Maybe get laid. But she knew that Jamie wanted to be the one she slept with and she just didn’t feel that way about him. She liked him a lot, maybe even loved him, but only as a friend. And she always felt guilty after one of their nights out because she wasn’t going to go home with him. She realized how pathetic that sounded, how terribly unfeminist. But it wasn’t that she thought she owed him anything, more that he deserved better. He deserved to be with someone who wanted him. He shouldn’t be wasting his time on her when it was never going to happen.

  But he’d been so nice to her. He’d bought her a gift that was far too expensive considering how much she paid him. He’d even gone into work early and decorated the store. And made a cake for her. From scratch. If she could bring herself to be into him, he’d be perfect. But she couldn’t, so he wasn’t. So instead of going out and having fun with a friend on her birthday, she was spending it alone with her bird. It was pathetic.

  She let Paulo get on with his supper and her phone rang again. She expected it to be Jamie and wondered if she should just relent. Instead she saw Nick’s name flash up. She paused, her hand lingering over it. Why was he calling her? She wondered if something could be wrong, an accident maybe. Perhaps it wasn’t Nick calling at all, maybe someone had found his phone, another cop, a paramedic. But why call her? She wouldn’t be in his list of frequently called numbers anymore. Maybe he’d never changed his next of kin.

  The phone rang a fourth time and she picked it up.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hey, it’s me. I just wanted to say happy birthday.’

  Karen squinted, as if she was trying to make sure it was actually Nick, as if this strange person was standing in front of her rather than just a voice on the phone.

  ‘Thanks?’ she said, wondering why he was being nice, what it was he wanted. Because there had to be something. He hadn’t called to say happy birthday even when they were supposedly happy. Not for many years.

  ‘I thought I’d give you a heads-up. My parents are coming over. They want to
take you out for dinner. I tried to stop them but you know what they’re like.’

  There it was. Karen almost laughed. Was he really expecting her to go out with his parents? When they first decided to split, she’d agreed to let him tell them. Not that she wanted to do it, she knew his mother would blame her regardless of what had happened. But time went on and still he didn’t tell them. Karen knew why, knew their old-fashioned ideas. But after a while she refused to take part in the lie. If they called the apartment, she let him answer. If they called her phone, she didn’t pick up. And if Nick complained that they were hassling him about it, she let him come up with an excuse. But after a while they got suspicious and started calling more frequently. In the end Karen had no choice but to speak to them. She was tempted to spill the beans but she also liked having this hold over Nick. He would never know when she might tell them and it bothered him. Watching him squirm outweighed the guilt of lying.

  ‘Are you still there?’ Nick asked.

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, but I couldn’t persuade them not to come. They love you, they want to see you.’

  Karen laughed at his poor attempts to persuade her. They loved her? She probably wouldn’t go that far, although they had been good to her over the years.

  ‘I’ve said I’ll try to get there but you know how it is. And this case…’

  Karen rolled her eyes. Maybe she could do worse than spending the evening with the Kellys. No doubt they’d take her somewhere fancy. And what else was she doing?

  ‘Fine,’ she said, knowing she’d hate herself the next day. She’d keep it to herself though. She didn’t want Jamie knowing she’d caved to Nick again.

  ‘Thanks. Oh, and remember: don’t say anything. And when they ask what I got you, make something up. Something good. But when you do tell them what I got you, text me so I’ll know. They’re bound to mention it.’